Napoli: At the Speed of Life
Contradictions in Light and Shadow
When people ask me if they should visit Napoli (Naples, Italy) I typically ask, “what’s your capacity for chaos?” Naples is just that - and more… chaotic, busy, messy, dirty, gorgeous, passionate, crazy, loud and downright spectacular. I sometimes think of it as a 27-ring circus with simultaneous acts being performed in all of the rings at once - and no ringmaster.
My very first visit, way back in the 1990s was, well… challenging. I have a purposefully half-buried memory of driving the right way down a one-way street and having traffic coming at me the wrong way, with those cars and scooters jumping up on the sidewalk to get past me, scattering pedestrians as they went.
But here’s the thing about Napoli: if you can just accept the chaos, if you’re willing to lean into it instead of trying to tidy it up, the city will reward you with a kind of beauty that doesn’t give a damn if you notice it or not.
You’ll find that beauty in a shaft of light sneaking into a dark alley or bouncing off cobblestones and catching the back of a scooter rider’s helmet just as they disappear around a corner. Or in the way a man navigates a crush of people with tray precariously balanced on his fingertips, unbothered by the crowd or the noise or the fact that he’s part of a visual opera you didn’t realize you bought a ticket to.
Typically, I’m drawn to different subject matter than this - grand vistas or romantic ruins, but in Naples, it’s the pulse that interests me. There’s a grit – a barely-contained electricity that makes Naples feel like it might burst at any moment, and yet somehow it never does.
So, these photographs are a bit of a departure for me—closer to what is sometimes called “street photography” (a label I’m suspicious of), though I think of them simply as a reaction to the environment. They are, for me, a way of trying to keep up with a city that refuses to sit still. I sometimes find myself shooting from the hip without looking through the viewfinder.
Sometimes people look back, but often they do not, unconcerned with my interest in them and the city surrounding them.
This is a city where Calico (Soccer) player Diego Maradona isn’t just remembered—he’s canonized. On a wall, tucked into a back alley not far from where the scent of frying dough and espresso wrestle for your attention, he floats midair like a beatified street saint, wings and all. The rest of the wall is a riot of messages—ads, protests, portraits, graffiti—but Maradona rises above, literally and figuratively. Naples adopted him, and in return, he gave the city glory, defiance, and an icon it still clings to decades later. His image lives on not in pristine museums, but here—in the grit, the noise, the beautiful mess of the street.
Naples isn’t easy. It doesn’t present itself neatly. There are no smooth edges, no signs telling you where to stand for the best view. You find the view by getting lost, by turning down the wrong alley, by stepping over some trash and into golden light.
These photographs aren’t any sort of attempt to explain or document Naples. I wouldn’t dare. They’re just small notes, made in the margins of a city that insists on writing its own story. And maybe that’s why I ended up working more like a street photographer this time—reacting, responding, trying to keep up with something too alive to be pinned down.
Napoli doesn’t wait for you to catch your breath. You just have to step in, eyes open. And if you do—if you lean in instead of holding back—Naples just might show you something unforgettable.
During this dark and difficult time, we all need to do what we can to keep our spirits up. I post my photographs and thoughts here to show that there is still beauty in the world and to promote the idea that there is grace, positivity and inclusivity in the everyday.
Throughout history, goodness most always wins, and the arts can lead the way in reflecting the good all around us. There is still light in the world.
This is such a great line: ...the city will reward you with a kind of beauty that doesn’t give a damn if you notice it or not.
Such a good representation of the city: the light, the people, the environment. I really like the photograph of the woman eating pastry. The intensity/density of the crowd really comes through.
Once again I am transported. Never doubt the gift you give us with your stunning images and brilliant explanations. Thank you.